Carrie: The Night of Triumph and Torment
by madman fred
Summary: What if the school shooting to end all school shootings were planned on the very night Carrie goes to prom? Carrie might well end up saving everyone, if she doesn't panic and controls her rage. Will her power give her the right bag of tricks against bullets and bombs? Based on the 2013 version of Carrie, but it borrows from all the movies and the novel. Warning: Violence & Language
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

I can move things with my mind, but I can't wrap my mind around this: he is really here! Tommy Ross is really here! I'm in a limo with Tommy, and he looks gorgeous and treats me nice. Momma, forgive me for locking you up, but I needed to be with him, to be close to him, to look pretty, to be something people didn't put-down and push away. All the mean looks, the insults, the tricks, the disgusting come-ons, but more than anything the scary, miserable aloneness; it all curdles my soul and spoils my appearance with grief. The people like Chris Hargensen and Tina Blake make me want to faint dead away. Momma, God wants me to do this. He wants me to save myself, so I don't do the evil things I'm so tempted to do to them.

Everything has happened so fast. At the lowest moment of my pitiful life, I found a great power within me, like God sent me into Hell to find a sword. I don't know if the power comes from Him or Satan, and I really don't care. I've practiced telekinesis, and it's wonderful and terrifying at the same time. My mind can move much more weight than my body can lift, and from much further away than my arms can reach. I can lift the limo I'm riding in. The Internet doesn't show people doing what I can do. It's not just moving things, now. I'm seeing more than my eyes show me. I can juggle water drops. I can heat metal. I can guide flames and stop electricity in wires.

Since the day of that awful, bloody shower, the bullies have backed off for some reason. Maybe they think their point was made. I'll never forgive them, but I won't seek revenge for the past. That's only because if I let the anger in me loose, God will send me to Hell for it. If they try anything else though, I'm liable twist their fingers backward. If they fling another insult, I'd force them to bite their tongues off. Or I'll pop eyes from their skulls.

I have so much rage in me, that's the least I might do. I have such terrible visions of hurting people. The power that makes me feel so safe now also gives me nightmares about the demon I could become. It's a good thing they've backed off.

I can't look at Tommy direct now. If this is a trick, if he's setting me up . . .

"You shouldn't hide your eyes when you look so beautiful," he says.

I smile and blush. All my dark thoughts of torture, murder and damnation are gone for the moment. He's not setting me up. I just know it even if I can't make sense of why he's doing this. Maybe it's my power telling me, but if anybody does anything to me tonight, I know Tommy isn't in on it. "And . . . you look better than I even knew a guy could. The limo, the tux, this must be so expensive."

"Your dress must be expensive, too."

"No," I say. "It's very cheap. I made it."

His eyebrows go up. "Wow! That's amazing, Carrie. Cheap is the wrong word to call something so beautiful you make yourself, even if it didn't cost you much money. If that dress was in a store window, some girls you'll see tonight would have paid hundreds to wear it. Did you already have it made, or did you do it just this week?"

"Just this week."

"Amazing. It doesn't look rushed. In fact, it looks perfect. It's worth more than my tux."

"I don't know. That suit makes you look so . . . um, angelic? I'm sorry. I don't have a word for it."

We're quiet for a moment. His eyes sparkle at me and know he cares about what I say, and "angelic" wasn't a silly word to him.

He breaks the silence. "I'm surprised you never wore anything pink before. It does something for you."

I giggle. "My momma called it red."

"It is. It's White-red. Carrie White-red. Still, it's your perfect color. You look like a Hollywood star."

I put my hands over my ears. "No. Please don't say that."

"I think you look like Chloe Grace Moretz."

"No! Stop!" I gaze away, frowning.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't even know who that is. Tommy, I don't look _that_ good. This dress isn't gonna keep them from making fun of me. And the better you make me feel now, the more terrible it's going to cut when they do."

"No, they'll be too awed with you. You just watch. I'll swear on my tux, they won't. "

"On your tux?" I laughed.

"I didn't bring my sword. Look, if anybody makes fun of you, I'll slay them."

"Tommy, thank you, but you really won't have to do that. How would you slay them anyway when you didn't bring your sword?"

"With my sharp wit."

And he makes me laugh again. "That would be worth holding back to see." I again look away, but then meet Tommy's gaze with the widest smile I ever wore. Tommy had made me feel safe from myself.

He draws closer and I drop my smile. For a moment our stares entangle, drawing us toward each other, and we kiss. Just a light, touching of the lips. We stop each other there. He hasn't broken up with Sue, and I don't want him to cheat on her, but never anticipated competing with her for Tommy. We pull away into awkward silence, my whole body feels flushed. I restrain myself from making the limousine fly. What will happen after tonight? Could I hide my power from him? If I can't, what would he think?

Little do I know he has less than two hours to live.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

As Tommy escorted Carrie from the limo, Eric and D. watched through field glasses. They were both students at Ewen, neither of them were going to the prom. "Ross and Carrie White," said Eric with an affected swagger. "Ross and Carrie White! Will you look at that stupid bitch! Why the fuck didn't she make herself look that good every day?"

"Because she's pathetic?" said D, as always with a scowl.

"She gets fuck-able for the first time in her life, and then dies in a school shooting a few hours later."

"Yeah, like one a' those uh . . . mayflies."

Eric lowered the field glasses and frowned. "I'm impressed. Very profound. You've been hittin' the books again, D? Like you're going to become a professor when you grow up?"

"Who needs a future? I pulled that one off the Discovery Channel."

Eric lifted the glasses again. "So, there's your car, D., right in front of the gym. I congratulate you for drivin' it here without blowin' it up. You win the skills competition. Here's first prize." Eric reached into his Ford Contour and took out a fifth of Jim Beam. He took a pull himself.

"Hey! That's my prize." D. grabbed for the bottle.

Eric held it away. "Take only one swig, captain. It's supposed to calm whatever nerves you're gettin'. You gotta be able to shoot straight when the time comes, or else you've got nothing to do but off yourself like a loser. And who wants to die without takin' someone more pathetic with'em?" He handed the bottle to D., who took a single swallow, coughed, then handed it back to Eric, who threw it back on the seat.

"Do Rick and Keith got things set up inside?" asked D.

"As long as you wired the bombs right."

"I followed the book. It's all code."

"Flash bombs are a bit different than your Daddy's dimmer switches."

"Hit the button on the remote, and the whole batch'll go off. Nobody in there's going to be able to see a thing."

"So, it's important we don't go in until I hit the button and give the signal. Don't fuck that up. You don't want be rockin' your Bushmaster blind. That's not really rock. That's, more like disco, man. Don't embarrass us. Rick and Keith will slip out when the king and queen votes are announced and everyone's lookin' at the stage. They'll 'quip up, should take only thirty seconds. I'll set off the flashes. Then we all go in firin'. On the second clip, throw the bombs to herd the rabbits and sheep out to the parking lot. Then, you hit the button and your car takes up the whole block."

"Man, Eric. Too bad you're not joining the army. You would have been a great general."

"Yeah, I'd rather have it like this. It's worth it to be able to choose my mode of exit. No pain in the ass surprises in store for me."

"I guess you're disappointed that Chris Hargensen won't be in there."

"The hell she won't! You think I'd leave this world without sendin' her to Hell first? Not after the way she frosted me out. No, she'll be here. Her and Nolan both."

"Really? But she's banned from the prom."

"Doesn't make a difference with Chris. I heard from Hank that she, Billy, Lou, Kenny and a few other brainless warm bodies broke into Overlook's Hog Farm and poached a few pigs. Now get this: they didn't take the pork. They took only the blood."

D. made a grimace.

"Anti-kosher, isn't it?" said Eric.

"I don't get it. How does that mean Chris and Billy are going to be here tonight?"

"Because poor Chris had her panties in a wedgie over missing the prom. She's a mean bitch, part of what I like about her, and a prankster. She doesn't take anythin' from the world's idiots. And Nolan would do anything to impress her."

"So, what's she gonna do?"

"Hell if I know, D. Something with pigs' blood. Point is, she'll be here. Meanwhile, we don't chain the doors until Chris and her fireplug Nolan show up."

"I wonder what you can do with pigs' blood at a prom?"

Eric laughed. "We can make that a game while we wait. One thing, let's be symbolic and start it with overthrowing the monarchy. You aim for the prom king, whoever he is, I'll aim for the queen. I want to see some gorgeous bitch's brains splatter across the George Chizmar's artistic stage backdrop. It'd give it a post-modern favor."


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Tommy's right. They're awed! Mostly, people smile in surprise. Every one of Chris Hargensen's disciples keep their distance. Norma, Tina, Heather, Nikki and Lizzi all sneer at me, each with an equally mean guy in tow. Chris herself couldn't be here, of course. She's banned from prom like she deserves, the first time anybody got into trouble for anything they did to me.

No one's ever offered to stand up for me before. Does Tommy mean it? He has restraint I don't. I can shove Tina off her high heels, but I'm more likely to put a pencil in her eye. Unlike Chris, I fear Hell.

I don't have a lot of experience using my power with other people present. Half of practicing my telekinesis was learning its strange rules, one being that the presence of other minds can interfere. I'd have to direct my power through waves and currents of other minds; I don't know if I could do it, and it'd at least be obvious. Once I do anything in a crowd, my secret is out, and I'll be even more of a freak than I was before.

Strange rules, like I thought lifting a baby bird into its nest would be much easier than lifting a dresser to the ceiling and holding it there while I do my English lit homework. No, as it turns out, lifting any animal is much harder. It has a mind, and that makes it slippery. On the third try, I got the bird in its nest, but by then, my heart was running a suicide.

Moving Momma was much easier on my heart this evening. At least I didn't sweat or get winded. A good thing, because Tommy was at the door right when I had to shut her mouth and lock her in the closet. My heart was just a little fast, but I lost control of my arm, which reached toward Momma. I didn't want it to do that, but the same power I used to move Momma sort of echoed back and moved my arm. I guess some parapsychologists would call it a side-effect, but they don't mention it on any of the websites. That makes me suspicious.

I wonder how hard it would be to squeeze Tina Blake's windpipe? Or stop Chris Hargensen's heart. I smile at the thought. Not that I've ever been tempted to do such a thing . . .

Yes, I'll let Tommy defend me. I want to see him do it.

I'm star-struck and speechless by all the Glamor. The detailed stars all hung from the ceiling. Everybody and everything look so beautiful here. I see the people here every day, but they've never decked themselves out with such elegance. For a second, I don't feel hostility but warmth.

Tommy spars with his friend, George Dawson. They're kind of rough with each other, it worries me. George's date Ericka says, "Don't worry. If they kill each other, I'll dance with you."

She's joking, of course. Of course? Is she? I'm confused. How much of that is a joke? I've heard of girls liking girls, and some like boys and girls, too. That's a really bad kind of lust, worse than murder even, to judge by the way it riles up Momma. She always said dancing is really filthy lust barely disguised, but she sees through it. How deep in sin am I going tonight? I get curious. Then repulsed. Then worried.

I feel hostile eyes gazing at me from back in the shadows. The twins and Tina. They have dirty smiles. No, those are really the sinful people. I'm not.

Into my awkward silence Ericka says, "I love your dress. Where did you get it?"

"I made it." She doesn't believe me. I never realized making your own clothes is strange. I always had to. Momma's rules, and I had to make them by Momma's design. Baggy. Drab colors. Dull green, brown and gray. Skirts to the ankles. Sleeves over the elbows. Never should a woman wear pants, never anything pretty, Momma says, but that's nowhere in the Bible. My clothes made me look like a freak. But I stop thinking about that so I won't get too angry.

_Momma in the closet. Slam!_

I realize Ericka is talking. "No kidding. Really?" she says. "It's amazing. I could never make something like that." I look her in the eye and realize that Ericka is being sincere. She goes to Dover, not Ewen. She knows nothing about me. I have a fresh start with her.

"You could with enough practice," I say. "I've been making my own clothes my whole life. Isn't there something you've done your whole life that you're great at?"

"Dance," she says. "I do choreography. For Dover's plays mostly. Ever think of getting into theater? I bet you could be a great costumer."

"My Momma wouldn't allow that," I say.

Momma would call Erica a whore and a heathen, but I can't see a trace of meanness or trickery in her eyes. She's being sincere and I needn't be afraid. I feel more warmth. I can put high school behind me, like forgetting a nightmare when I wake up. I can start again, leave the memory of ol' prayin' Carrie, the butt of everyone's antics and jokes, behind.

I shush Momma's voice within me, which wants to tell her how sinful dancing is, and that plays are all full of exhibitionism. Ericka is one of the children of Ham, inferior to the Chosen People, so prone to choosing sin.

It's not that I feel any of that about Ericka. It's really the only way I can talk. I seal Momma's lips and lock her in the closet once again. She has no power over me anymore. I have the power now.

It dawns on me Momma never did anything to stop them from persecuting me. She knew I was tortured and taunted daily for twelve years of school. _She never said a single thing that was right or helpful about it._ How could dancing be so rant-worthy evil while what happens to her child every day is acceptable? Yet, I know she loves me, and that just makes it worse.

She even misquotes the Bible, and that's the most important thing in her life. I tried to feel love, but I feel sorry for her instead.

Done sparring with George, Tommy comes over to the table and sits with me while Ericka and George dance. Tommy gives me a smile, and I almost melt. I can't think of anything to say that wouldn't be sad or angry or like preaching, so I just smile. My happiness has nothing to talk about, yet. Sue Snell could talk rings around me. He must feel so bored, but I can't tell from his smile.

He asks me to dance. No way could I! I watch Miss Desjardin. Her dancing looks sinful. If my momma saw it, she would gouge her eyes out with candles. I can't do any of what she does on the dance floor. I don't have that talent, and it would be so sinful, I need to keep myself . . .

And idea pops into my head: _There's nothing evil about dancing. Momma is wrong about everything._

Then, oh no, Miss Desjardin comes over to us. I swallow.

_You saw me naked and screaming and bloody . . ._

I close my eyes to put that awfulness behind me. I tell myself it's not her fault. It isn't. Not really. I open my eyes. I'll never be able to see my senior-year gym teacher and not think of how harshly she treated me during the worst moment of my life. Yes, she was kind when she found out I didn't know about women's periods, but . . .

In a way, I'd rather talk to Chris Hargensen. I can't stand the in-betweeners. I guess bystanders is the word, the one's who aren't bullying, but who do nothing about it. The teachers . . .

_. . . and Momma._

She was late, but she was the first one who did punish people for what they did to me. "Miss Desjardin!" I say with a sweet smile, though my skin crawls.

"You look beautiful!"

"I don't. Not really." _Flattery will get you nowhere. _

Then we have an awkward conversation. She reaches her point. "Carrie, I want you to know anything that happened before . . . well it's behind us."

"I can't forget," I say, avoiding a lie, "but it's over with. Now it's over with."

She smiles, gratified. I guess she thought that settled matters.

_Do you even know what I said?_ _I will never forgive what you did to me. What they did to me, and what you let them do for so long. _

She excuses herself abruptly. When she runs off, Tommy comes back. "What did she want?"

I sigh. "I think she wanted to say she was sorry,"

_but didn't._

Tommy opened his mouth to ask, to my relief he doesn't. I'm thankful. Heaven must have really sent him to rescue me.

"Do you really have to be home so early?" he asks.

"I promised," I said.

He tells me about his friends going to the Cavalier afterward. Why does he bring this up?

Somewhere in the room, someone is pushing computer keys with a soft tap-tap-tap-tap. It's a side-effect of my power that my mind will suddenly wander away and focus on some object or person out of my sight. It's Tina Blake at the keyboard. I can't see the screen, I decide to make the space bar stick.

She says, "Shit! What's wrong with this?" She slams the space bar trying to un-stick it.

"It's a slow song," Tommy says bringing me back into his presence. I hear Tina slamming the keyboard somewhere in the darkness.

"No," I say, and I realize we've been talking, and I don't know what we said.

"Yeah!"

I beg him not to, but he insists.

He takes my arm and drags me out to the floor. He shows me where to put my hands and tells me where he's putting his and we sway together. He's so gentle. No one's ever held me so close in my life. My heart pounds, my soul tastes sweetness and I feel heat. Now I know why Momma considers dancing so sinful, but I don't care whether she's wrong or right. He brings up the Cavalier again, and this time I understand that Tommy Ross is asking me to go with him after the dance.

I promised Momma I would be home by ten. It's a boundary for me. I'm not out to sin. It's a line I drew against the tempting, carnal world. Then I remembered I left her trapped in the prayer closet with the bolt melted closed. She can't get out without me. That should give me extra motivation to get back by ten.

Instead that makes me smile. "Maybe till eleven."

. . . or maybe twelve, I think. She's trapped me in the prayer closet for longer.

When the dance is over, I follow him back breathless. They announce that it's time to vote for the Prom King and Queen. I have no reason to look at the ballot. I don't know anybody well enough to vote. I glance at it anyway and get the shock of my life.

"Tommy we're on here!"


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

The hum of the powerful engine vibrated in the cab of Billy Nolan's car, filling in the silence between him and Chris Hargensen. She didn't know a Ford from a Chrysler, couldn't care less about the model. It was a frame and four wheels Billy revamped into a poor man's muscle car. To Chris, that meant he was clever and handy. Billy also didn't play by rules people made for each other. Neither did Chris. This made him exciting. The possibilities with him were endless.

Chris knew that about Billy, but she didn't think Billy had put that together about her yet.

"Don't you back out now," said Billy.

That startled Chris out of her silence. "That's not even what I was thinking. What do we do if somebody snitched us out?"

"You should have thought that through before. I told you you shouldn't have let your friends in on it."

"Well, somebody had to fix the voting. You and I couldn't do that, Billy."

"Why does it have to be Cunt-ie White on the pedestal? Keep it simple. The blood spilling on any girl would make your point. Cunt-ie would probably puke all over her dress when she sees it. The smell alone might make her piss herself and faint. She's that weak."

"No, _Carrie_ has to be prom queen," said Chris. She hated Billy's use of cunt, but wasn't going to argue that it was too demeaning for Carrie. "It was Carrie's ignorance and sobbing that caused all this. I've had to take her preaching; now her hysterics and sniveling gets me suspended from prom. And Carrie goes to prom with Tommy Ross! When they banned me! I bet she feels so protected and entitled. I hate her, and soaking Carrie would get back at Sue, too. I hope the blood gets over Tommy's tuxedo"

"You didn't tell anyone it's going to be blood did you?"

"No, they think it's going to be syrup dyed red, just enough like blood to remind Carrie of her shower-room meltdown. I would have never thought of pigs' blood. That was a good idea, Billy."

"Yes, it'll make her feel unclean."

"What?" said Chris.

"In the Bible, there's only one thing that's more unclean than period blood, and that's pig's blood."

Chris blinked. "When did you read the Bible?"

"I went to Sunday school," said Billy, "and I just read all the parts of the Bible kids weren't supposed to read."

They turned into the school parking lot. Chris saw the vintage model Geo Metro in the far corner of the lot. Two male figures stood in front of it.

"Oh, shit!" She said. "It's Eric Karis, and he's with Dillion Koibuld What the fuck are those losers doing hanging out here?"

"Looking at the girls. Envying what they don't have."

"Well, I hope Eric doesn't see me. I'm done with that twerp."

"If he comes near us, I'll beat the shit out of him."

Chris and Billy found a parking place on the other side of the gym from Eric and D. Chris picked up the false ballots on the back seat then texted Tina. She stood looking over the hood toward the gym and waited for Tina's answer. Billy got behind Chris, who leaned back her head against his shoulder. Her put his hands around her waist and they swayed to the slow music emanating from the gym. Chris sighed, closed her eyes. The moon happened to be full and the very spring air had turned sweet. Arousal was blooming within her, but she held her desires in check for the aftermath. She knew Billy would do the same.

"I just realized," said Chris in a breathy voice, "I'm going to enjoy this much more than just going to prom."


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Chris got the text. She and Billy went to the east exit. Tina opened the door for them.

Through field glasses Eric saw them go in. Two minutes later, he chained and locked the doors shut. Dillion did the same with the west and north exits. The front doors were then the only ways out of the gym. Inside the music had stopped. The attendees were voting for prom king and queen.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

From the stage, Vic Mooney announces, "The winners—and it was very close—Tommy Ross and Carrie White!"

For a moment, I die and float on the ceiling looking down. There the only sound is my own breath.

_Did I hear our names? Did they really vote me prom queen? _

I came back to my body again and everyone cheers us. They're looking at me, not with sneers or hatred now, but in awe. Freddie Holt yells "Way to go, Carrie!"

_Did you always feel that way, Freddie? Why didn't you ever say?_

I stand. Tommy takes my arm, steadies and guides me to the stage. I let him, because I surely can't even find it right now. Instead, if Tommie's arm doesn't ground me, I might float back to the ceiling.

I _am_ star struck. If everyone is saying they're sorry, they've chosen the right way to do it. But no, they're not just saying they're sorry.

I feel light, a joyful spirit! An angel. I can dance in the clouds now. The misery; heavier and heavier every day, week, and month for year after year—twelve layers of leaden suffering—lift from my soul. Like a miracle, the scars of persecution heal. I take the special spot on the stage next to Tommy. I see myself, reflected in everyone's eyes and I'm a beautiful gem, precious to them. The abuse, jeers, and bullying—just bad dreams. I'm awake for the first time in my life now, and it's like none of it really never happened. _This_ is what's real. This is how they really always felt about me.

And at that moment, their cheers reach a crescendo, and I forgive them all. They are my peers, my friends. I glance at Sue; I owe her such thanks for this revelation.

_Impossible! She can't be here._

I try to point her out to Tommy, but when I look for her again, she's gone.

Instead, I get drawn into Tommy's eyes. My knight who forgot his sword but who still brought me out of Hell . . . with his sharp wit. I laugh. Joy comes so easily now.

"Tommy . . ."

But my mind wanders; where I don't know.

_hidden . . ._

_ . . . a large cup . . . filled with the most unclean, vile poison for my soul. . . and Chris Hargensen's forcing it down my throat . . . it's tipping . . . tipping . . ._

A bang and burst of light snap me out of the vision. I'm back with Tommy on stage. But I'm blind and deaf. I panic. My mind reaches out . . .


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Carrie took the stage right as Sue Snell arrived. Chris, who couldn't resist being smug, texted her that Carrie was about to take a fall. Sue spotted Billy's car, and parked to deliberately block him in.

_You're not getting away with this, Chris. _

When she finally gained entry by Rick Holcomb and Keith Shepard exiting, Sue stormed through the lobby.

* * *

Rick and Keith met Eric and D. in the parking lot. Rick and Keith, the inside men, were dressed in formals. Rick's tux was blue, Keith's was a plain, conservative black with a white shirt. Eric and D were dressed in jeans and t-shirts. They both carried weapons bags. The boys armed themselves swiftly, Keith and Rick shed their jackets and put on ninja masks.

"Prom queen chosen?" asked Eric, handing Rick his rifle.

"Yeah, it was Carrie White and Tommy Ross," said Keith.

"Carrie?" said D. "Can I shoot her, Eric?"

"Okay, just make sure it's your first shot. I'll take out Ross."

The weapons, ammunition and homemade explosives were swiftly divided up.

"Guys, thanks, it's been great knowing ya." said Eric. "I really thought one of you would snitch us out, but you're all perfect gentleman. Now, you all know the plans." He held up the the transmitter with the switch. Ready?"

"Yeah—yes—uh huh," they said.

"Set . . . Go!" He pushed the button. Inside the gym, three explosions went off, each one illuminating the windows with a solid wall of white light. "Everyone is now blind and deaf." Eric and D rushed to the center doors, Keith took the far left door, Bill took the right.

* * *

Inside the gym, Tommy and Carrie were on their way to the stage. The school song was being played and sung.

"Heather," said Sue, grabbing the redhead by the arm, "where's Chris?"

"What are you talking about? She's not here."

Sue knew that was bullshit and walked on in disgust. Heather and Chris were thick. Whatever was happening, Heather knew about it, but Sue didn't have time to interrogate. Something was going down now. With wet, lank hair, and dressed warm up suit and t-shirt, Sue stood out like a duck in a pond full of swans.

Vic now announced, "Ewen High! I give you your newly crowned King and Queen of the prom, Tommy Ross and Carrie White!"

Carrie was on stage next to Tommy, smiling with a radiance Sue had never seen from her. For a moment, she caught Carrie's eye. But Sue was searching around for a threat.

_It has to be something dropped from above . . . _

Her eyes scoured that direction. A camera flashed. She saw something glint galvanic gray above the stage lights. Moving to the side to get them out of her eyes, she focused there again, and another flash revealed it. A bucket, strung precariously with a rope. It was thirty feet above Carrie. Chris was at the other end of the line, her expression maniacal, Billy standing behind her. For a moment, they looked like a two-headed monster to Sue.

"Chris!" Sue said.

She was grabbed on the arm. It was Rita Desjardin, Sue's gym teacher, who was pissed. "Sue! Come on!"

"What are you doing?"

"Come on!"

Sue was surprised by Rita's strength. In the crowd, with all the applauding and music, Sue couldn't figure out how to tell her teacher what was about to go down. "Miss Desjardin, Please! It's not me. It's Chris!"

As Sue tried to reason with her, Rita continued to push or drag Sue toward the door.

"You're not gonna ruin this for Carrie," said Rita.

"It's not me!"

As Sue was forced closer to the door, she was deafened by an explosion. A bright light caught her peripheral vision. Two more explosions followed. These shook Sue's bones but she didn't hear them above the buzz of her stunned hearing. When she and Rita raised their heads, they were two of a handful of people in the gym who weren't blinded by the stun bombs. Several people were already injured. The air was full of smoke, and the sprinklers activated, soaking them immediately with an eerie, silent rain. Sue turned, and through the uneven smoke could discern aimless shock coalescing into mass panic. She caught Carrie's eyes, which looked wide, and unfocused, Tommy had his hand over his. Then Rita hit Sue on the elbow.

Sue spun around and froze. A guy in a tuxedo and Ninja mask took aim at her with a Kalashnikov. Rita, who had served in Iraq, tackled her under the cover of a table, saving Sue's life as the shots started.

* * *

When Carrie and Tommy marched up toward the king and queen spots, Chris giggled and almost jumped up and down on the catwalk. Then she regain her composure and now went still with the patience of a spider in a web, watching a fly walking close to the threads. As Carrie took her place, Sue was ready for the dirty work.

But her silence and focus disturbed Billy, who again mistook it for cold feet.

"Hey, what's wrong. Come on, go. You can do this."

She ignored him. She wanted this to have maximum effect on Carrie. Not just a blow to her psyche, but a mortal wound.

_Not yet . . . Carrie doesn't believe it, yet. Let her pinch herself, know it's real, settle in to being the new popular girl. Once the blood hits her, she'll want to kill herself.  
_

"We are fucking doing this," said Billy. "It's too late to back out now."

"Ewen High!" Vic said over the speakers, "I give you your newly crowned king and queen of the prom: Tommy Ross and Carrie White!"

"Pull it!"

"Shut up, Billy!" she snapped, too loud. She feared he made her give herself away.

A shift in Carrie's posture signaled Chris.

_She believes. Sucker!_ _Freak! Freak! Now you die!  
_

She yanked the rope, and it jammed in the pulley.

_Fuck!_

Billy took the rope and tried to clear it, when the deafening explosions hit. The three flashes were so bright, that it lit up the dark catwalk. Chris thought they were spotted, not that it mattered with nuclear war starting. Then, smoke obscured the whole apron below.

"What the . . . ?" Billy mouthed. His eyes were wide, an expression Chris never thought she'd see on Billy: fear, bewilderment. They stood paralyzed, neither of them saying or hearing anything. Then Chris decided.

_I came here to do this, I'm gonna do it. _

She gave the rope one last hard tug before they fled.

* * *

The stun bombs seemed like a good idea, but Eric failed to consider two things. One was the smoke, which blinded the shooters, though not as much as their quarries were blinded. The second was, the sprinkler system, which, of course let loose with a downpour. For the time being, this was only an annoyance, but their explosives weren't waterproof.

Eric calculated that authorities would arrive soon, but by that time, many prom-goers would be dead, and then it would be time to detonate the car bomb, which would kill the rest of the students and teachers, police and rescue crews.

_Good. Kill 'em all._ Thought Eric.

He and D. barged into the center doors, and had a clear line of sight to the prom king and queen. Tommy was blinking, holding his head. Carrie's eyes were wide, blind and trancelike. D. aimed at her head and squeezed off two shots with his Bushmaster. Eric took aim at Tommy.

Tommy, hit in the chest, was tossed backward. Carrie's head lurched to the side. Blood splattered across the starry, venetian backdrop. As she fell, her arm pitched upward sending the red roses of her bouquet scattering across the stage. The king and queen were overthrown.

Eric wasn't interested in what happened next, but D. stopped and watched in amazement as a stream of blood poured down on the stage, followed by a falling bucket.


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N-8/2/14:** I've also written most of Chapter 9. It should be up by the middle of the week._

* * *

CHAPTER 8

After Rita saved Sue's life, Sue decided survival depended on sticking with her. They retreated from the gunman in stages, staying under cover. When Sue tried to look over the table. Rita pulled her down by the hair and mouthed, "Stay low." Or maybe she said it aloud. They were both still deaf.

Sue had no idea how Rita led them between the gun sights through all the smoke seemingly without even a glance. Sue watched Donna Simard and Billy Preston get gunned down next to them. This happened in a silent, eerie, driving rainstorm where everything was soaked and slick.

Rita took her to a fire exit on the far left, but held Sue back. There was already a mob trying to push out against doors that wouldn't yield. One of the gunman showed up and simply picked them off like target ducks in a box. Some of Sue's lifetime friends died in front of her: Jessica McClean, Hank Stampel, Donna Troust, George Dawson and Frieda Jason all went down. Last shot was Mr. Morton, the assistant principal.

Sue recognized the gunman. _Is that __Dillion Koibuld__?_ It seemed to Sue he would be doing this. Dillion, D., then threw something in their direction. It landed to Sue's right. Rita's face distorted in panic. Sue saw the word, "Run!" form on her lips. Rita grabbed Sue's sleeve and dragged her so hard that even with Sue following, it tore. They broke cover, Sue felt a shot whiz over her head. She followed Rita. They dashed and dove. Rolling, Rita grabbed an upended table and dragged it over them.

A bone-shaking blast went through Sue. The air turned so hot Sue could hardly breathe. Steam rose from the floor. This and the smoke blinded the shooter to them. A deformed metal chair landed nearby, followed by a table leg, and then by a human leg. Sue was too dazed to scream. Rita got to her knees, and Sue read the words, "Keep moving! Keep moving!" on her lips as Rita again pulled Sue along. They ducked into the doorway that led back stage.

The air was clear back there, but it was darker. Rita immediately looked for the exit. Sue staggered after her, but found herself distracted.

_Where's Tommy?_

She had completely lost track of him after the first explosions. Sue called his name. Meanwhile, Rita tried the exit doors and found them chained shut from the outside.

Still dazed, Sue wandered on to the stage. Due to the smoke and mist, she could see almost nothing of the pandemonium beyond the apron. Her ears were still too shocked to hear much.

_Blood! _

It was everywhere. A huge puddle of it. It was splashed on the venetian scene painted so skillfully on the backdrop. Carrie lay unmoving at the pool's edge closest to Sue, but Tommy lay further back, just as inert. Sue cried out just as Rita caught up and pulled her down to her knees next to Carrie. Sue barely heard Rita say, "Stay down, we're in the open."

Sue touched Carrie, rolled her on her back. She was limp, her eyes shut, her hair stained red along its right edges, like highlights.

_She's dead._

But Sue didn't look very close. She crawled over to Tommy while Rita stayed with Carrie. Tommy's shirt and jacket were soaked in blood. In the center the bullet wound was conspicuous. He was limp, his eyes open and unblinking. He was either dead or critically wounded. Sue began to cry. She could think of nothing else now. It felt like the world was ending.

* * *

Carrie bled from the temple, her right eye swollen on the edges.

_Oh no!_ Thought Rita.

But closer scrutiny showed Rita that it was not an entrance hole, but a partly singed cut.

_Graze! _

She took Carrie's pulse. It was rapid, but strong. Her breathing was also healthy, if fast. Rita had assumed the blood was Carrie's. Now it was a mystery.

_Where did all this blood come from? Somebody must have bled out back here._

Rita discarded that theory. The blood puddle where Carrie lay smelled putrid. No way it was a fresh bleed. Baffled, she searched Carrie for other wounds. As she found none, Carrie's eyes opened, staring in a trance that made Rita shudder. The girl's body went cold beneath Rita's touch, even though she breathed heavily.

_Shock?_

"Carrie? Carrie?" Rita patted her face.

Beyond the apron, the massacre went on unabated by anything but the smoke and the sprinklers. Up above Rita and Sue, the stage lights buzzed and went out. The red emergency lights made all the blood look like water.

* * *

_**A/N-8/2/14:** I don't think it's too much of a spoiler now to mention that Carrie comes into play big time in the next installment._


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

_Not a cup._ _A whole bucket of hatred spills . . ._

_ I'm drenched. Red. Decayed, metallic smell . . . dizzy, faint. The whole night, the date with Tommy, making me prom queen, all just to trick me. This is blood! A life's worth of it. They murdered somebody just to humiliate me? That's no joke; that's evil._

_ But this isn't just any blood. It's fouled, maybe with some wicked ritual. It's unclean and corrupt, worse than menstrual blood, and I'm soaked through to my very soul, contaminated, defiled, desecrated to the core. _

_ Tommy falls. Somebody shot him. His soul leaves his body. I can see it as clearly as a change from red to blue. I grieve at first. My new, only friend, the only one who would have ever defended me, now they've taken him. _

_ The evil saturates my soul and chokes compassion. I cannot mourn, cannot feel sorrow. Anger. Rage, summon me. _

_I am a demon conjured from Hell with unclean blood; I am the Arm and Sword of God. I am both of the same nature. My fear drowns in blood last of all; fear of people, of the devil, of God. _

_I glare at the crowd, and they freeze. They can feel my power gathering; they can watch the fury in my eyes ready to smite them. _

_ FLEX!_

_ An explosion knocks them off their feet. _

_ FLEX!_

_ I send Heather face first into a window. (If only she were Chris!)_

_ FLEX!_

_ I fling tables and lights like a storm, Hurricane Carrie. I swat them one-by-one like mosquitos. I smash them many at a time like worms._

_ FLEX!_

_ I crush boys in the bleachers as they try to escape._

_ FLEX!_

_ I whip and flay Tina Blake with an electric cable until she catches fire. _

_ FLEX!_

_ I mix electricity and water, until flesh is charred from everyone's bones. _

_ FLEX! _

_ I find Chris. _

_ (my eyes say oh sorry hon did I kill your date by accident isn't it a bitch when that happens) _

_ I make a jigsaw puzzle of her face before sending her evil, fornicating ass into hellfire._

_ But my rage is bottomless, and my power grows ever greater with use. My mind expands over the town, and all know my name and know that I'm killing them. I set fire to the town where my tormenters sprung. Burn it, explode it, electrocute its people. Kill the parents who gave life to their wicked brats. _

_ My hatred makes no exception. I hate myself. My momma who brought me into this miserable world must die, too. It's only fair. But my fury yields for her; I let her stab me before I squeeze her crazy, betraying, callous heart. _

_ I kill my mother. No fury left in my exhausted, vile soul. Only My Lord's Will, to destroy the sinful dens, the places where the serpent tempted and tricked my father into conceiving me . . . _

_ And with that final retribution, that last fire set, I sink into darkness like quicksand. My power ebbs. My wounded, exhausted body is so weak, I can't even turn myself over to die with my eyes on the heavenly stars. To look angels to raise me from the tarry darkness pulling at me. _

_Somebody approaches. Sue Snell. The conniving bitch who tricked me with her own boyfriend . . . _

_"Carrie? Carrie!"_

_ My power grabs her. If I submerge below darkness, she will go with me . . . _

"Carrie! Carrie! Stop!"

"You tricked me!" I shout aloud. My mortal body suddenly strong again.

But the darkness isn't very dark anymore. I'm not sinking into it, it's raining and popping noises unlike thunder are going off all over. It's not Sue I've grabbed. It's Miss Desjardin, who I levitate eight feet above me, her limbs flailing like a turtle turned on it's back. Her eyes are bulged in terror, my arm is extended toward her. My nightmare, or whatever it was, has left my power in overdrive making me dizzy.

Just to confuse me even more, Sue's also here. She kneels petrified next to Tommy, her expression is panicked as Ms. Desjardin's. I'm so confused, and still angry. I don't want Sue to run before I talk to her and find out what's going on . . .

_FLEX!_

. . . so I grab her. My other arm jolts up toward her. Again, I don't extend my arms to use my power on people, they extend on their own when I use my power either on, through or around people. I squeeze Sue's arms to her sides and lock her knees and hips. She tries to scream (_flex!_ a turn of my wrist) and I close her lips.

* * *

_**A/N-****8/13/14:** If you're not happy where this chapter ends, neither am I. But went out of town this weekend and couldn't get as much work done on it as I wanted to, but I didn't want to go any longer without putting up an installment. Don't worry. My life has returned to it's same boring routine. This story will me done soon. _


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

I begin to catch on. I got knocked out by some trick they set for me. I was having a nightmare, or hallucinating, but something really bad has happened and I can't tell what. I'm sitting on the floor behind the stage back drop, where I fell when something hit me in the head. For some reason, it's raining . . . indoors, and everything is sodden. My dress clings to me like a big, cold leech, but at least it's almost all water and not blood. The puddle I'm sitting in is bloody water, and almost makes me gag. My right eye hurts, and I'm mostly blind in it. Over the ringing in my ears I hear all kinds of loud noises I can't make sense of.

And Tommy's dead. I can see it somehow, just like in my nightmare. That part of it was true. Sue crying over him means their trick went wrong. Her sobs twist in the pit of my stomach. I never felt envy before, but Sue was in on the trick that got him killed. How could she be allowed to mourn him like that?

My heart is skipping rope. I shout to Ms. Desjardin, because everything is so loud, "I'm going to let you go. Don't run. I want to talk to you."

I see her lips move, saying "I won't." I _un-flex_, ease her down to her feet. My left arm goes down. She crawls away to sit with her back against the wall. She gazes at me with eyes as big as goose eggs.

"I'm sorry. I made a mistake. I thought you were Sue," I say switching my angry gaze to Snell. She screams.

_Flex!_

"Quiet!" I shut her lips. The power feedback makes my wrist flip over.

I turn to Ms. Desjardin. "Why is it raining in here?"

She yells, "Sprinklers!" which I hear as a whisper. I do smell sulfur.

"Is there a fire?"

"Not really."

My mind follows the pipes, finds the valve. _Flex! _I shut them off. Then I pull the alarm wires, too. The bells have already made their point. It's still noisy. Are those gunshots? I don't know that I hear any better, but my ears signal relief.

I reach up next to my right eye, and find a stinging wound on my temple that makes me yelp. My fingers come away bloody, and I scream. The nightmare comes back to me. I turned to Sue. "What happened? What trick did you and Chris try to pull?"

Sue still can't move, and her face is terrified. I _un-flex_ and let her talk. Her words come out sprinting. "U-ah, Carrie, no! It wasn't me. I had nothing to do with it. Chris hates me too. She tricked both of us, but . . . but . . . something else happened. Some guys are shooting, they're killing everybody. You must stop them. Please."

A quick series of scenes from Sue's mind pound into me. I see her asking Tommy to take me to the prom, her mind is transparent to me then. I know she's truthful, that she was sorry for what she did to me in the shower, and she had no intention of tricking me. Neither did Tommy. This telepathy is a new facet of my power. From the new information, I realize I like Sue. Admire her, in fact. She forfeited her prom and I feel how hard that was, but it was nothing compared to persuading Tommy to take me instead.

"You were afraid of losing Tommy? To me?"

Before she could answer a bullet zips by her head and puts a hole in the backdrop, and ricochets off the brick wall.

"Carrie! Release her!" says Miss D., "She'll get killed!"

I force Sue down flat, maybe a little too rough, pressing her against Tommy. Handling live bodies is hard. _Un-flex._ I release her. Just then, this guy with a rifle steps on stage from the auditorium and comes back stage toward us. His gun is pointed at me. _Flex._ My finger points, and his bullet isn't going anywhere. I lower my finger. Instead of trying to shoot, he talks first. Sue sits up and stares at him.

"Hi, Carrie. Remember me, bitch?"

He shouldn't have called me that. Puzzlement and anger mold my face making my temple sting. My power's on high, my head is pounding, my mood is really bad. "No."

"Carrie . . ." says Sue, her voice like a mouse. I glance long enough to see her shake her head.

Just as I'm beginning to feel merciful, he escalates things. "My name is Dillon," he says through his teeth, "and you've been giving me the cold shoulder for the last year."

I wrinkle my brow, that makes the cut next to my eye sting like fire. He might as well have hit me.

"Wait!" I say, recalling him. "You're the guy who's always calls my name and then makes gross gestures."

"Gross? I was just expressing my feelings toward you."

"That's how you showed you liked me? With obscene gestures? You were harassing me!"

"What's harassment to one girl is just romance to another."

That appalls me so much my tongue ties up. Can anyone be that ignorant and deceived about girls? I never thought I'd meet someone more socially inept than me. I almost feel sorry for him. He's already dead, but he doesn't get a reprieve because he points his rifle at me.

"I'm glad I missed my shot," he continues, "because now I get to look in your eyes while I kill you. You've spurned me for the last time, you cunt."

Oh, he shouldn't have called me _that_! He pulls the trigger. My power holds the bullet fast. The Sue and Ms. D scream, thinking I got shot. Instead, the blast deforms the rifle behind the barrel. The kick knocks him back. _Flex._ My power grabs him, in mid-fall. This is hard again and My arm extends. My breath comes heavy as I get to my feet. I notice the my wet dress is transparent. Embarrassment irritates my disposition.

He screams. I snap his jaws shut on his tongue, and blood streams out of his mouth over his lips. As I hold him, details of his and his buddies' plans are laid bare to me.

_Flex._ I drop the clip from the gun, it floats in the air. _Flex_, I force him to his knees. _Flex_, I yank the rifle from his arms, my left hand gestures, then smash him across the face with the butt of his rifle. _Flex, flex, flex_ . . . I beat his face bloody with it. I hardly hear Sue's screams. Ms. D. rushes next to me.

"Carrie, stop it."

I nod. "I'm just about done."

I guess that sounded ominous, because she backs away from me.

_Flex,_ the clip floats in front of his face . . . _Hot flex_ and it goes red hot. The bullets inside all go off at once. The explosion rips away his lips, his nose ,and half his teeth.

Now both the females behind me scream.

"No! Carrie! Please!" I don't know which one says that. My power is raging now and won't be denied.

_Flex!_ The rifle levitates and points at him. _Hot flex . . ._ and the barrel goes red, then white hot.

_Flex!_

The rifle impales his remaining eye. The barrel burns out the back of his head. _Un-flex._ I let him fall.

I turn back to Ms. D and Sue. "Now I'm finished."

Ms. D faints. My heart is slamming in my chest like a jackhammer. I walk up to Sue. "There are three more guys shooting. They have a giant bomb in the parking lot. Sue, they're planning to kill everyone. I'm blind in my right eye. I need you to look out on that side. Can you do it for me?"

Sue stood as still as a wax figure.

"Sue, they killed Tommy! You can't stand here and do nothing while they murder everybody else in the school."

"Okay, yes, I'll scout for you."

"Good!" I put my hand on her shoulder. "I'll never hurt you. We're friends now."

She nods. "Yes, I'm your friend."

I emerge from behind the backdrop to the stage. My power vibrates in my bones and buzzes in my head. I'm on fire like the sword of God, ready to punish the wicked.

* * *

_**A/N: 8/24/14:  
** _

_Those who've seen the 2013 remake of Carrie know that Chloe's version has a cruel streak. Unlike Sissy Spacek's and Angela Bettis' Chloe's Carrie White is definitely conscious and in control of all she's doing. Her judgment might__ be influenced by her power, (her eyes dilate when she uses it; she looks like she's doing crack) but _(Spoiler alert) she's the sort of Carrie who whips Tina Blake with a live wire, knocks her into a fire and lets her burn. That takes quite a sadistic imagination to do that. And I won't even spoil what she does to Chris.  


_That's the version of Carrie White I'm working with here, though I'm taking influences from the book and the other two films. Why? Because I love the story that much. Chloe's depiction is closer to the book, as close as filmmakers have dared to get.  
_

_I was hoping to get this done in under 6,000 words, but I can't judge length to save my life, yet. I should have known that once I was telling it in two voices and several POV it would inflate the word count way above that. However, this is not going to turn into a novel. It will be done in more 5,000 words, 8,000 words tops.  
_

_No matter how long it ends up being, I hope everyone enjoys it._


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N-9/13/14** This and chapter 12 I'm putting up today. Chapter 11 doesn't really stand alone, though the change in POV makes the chapter break necessary. I'm not happy where chapter 12 leaves off, but I don't want to delay posting the installment any longer. I'm sorry this took so long._

_Next chapter is the climax, I promise._

* * *

"All right, I'll scout for you," said Sue, who was numb with the shock of Tommy's death. After feeling the cold tentacles of Carrie's power around and in her, and seeing what an angry Carrie White was capable of doing, Sue realized there was only one right answer to that request.

_When and where did she get all this power? She definitely didn't have it that day in the shower. _

"Good!" Carrie gazed at her. Carrie's right eye was so bloodshot it looked almost solid red. "I'll never hurt you. We're friends now."

Sue nodded, as Ms. D. came to and was getting up.

"Wait! Carrie!" the teacher called, but Carrie was already out on the stage.

Sue turned the recovering gym teacher. "Ms. Desjardin . . ."

"Call me Rita . . ."

"Rita, Carrie's going to stop the other shooters."

"What? She can't. That power! She has no restraint."

"No offense, Rita, but they killed Tommy, they're shooting people, and they have a bomb out there that's supposed to kill everybody. I don't see restraint as being a necessity here. Excuse me, I promised to help her."

"Sue wait . . .

Sue went out on stage. The gym was filled with smoke and steam. Carrie stood down stage, her body tensed. She swooned to the side.


	12. Chapter 12

I kick my high heels off and walk downstage trying to get a better look. Smoky steam from bombs and smoldering fires block my view. It makes me cough and hurts my eyes. I can't spot the shooters. I don't really hear anything, but I feel their gunshots press on my eardrums. If they've already herded people toward the front doors, I don't have long to try something. Through the fog, everybody in my left eye looks like ghosts in the mist. My damaged right eye only sees shadows moving in darkness. The cries of my classmates sound like whispers to my shocked ears. My power depends a lot on vision, so I don't want to wander into the smoke blind.

Suddenly, I'm dizzy and faint. "Sue! I'm . . ."

"Carrie!" she shouts.

I never saw her on my right, but thank the Lord she catches me. I read her concern, her anger over Tommy equal to my own.

"I think I must have a concussion or something," I say.

"Can you do this?" she shouts next to my ear, which is the only way we can hear each other.

"Yes, I can! I'll stand." I balance on my feet. "Thanks. Let me go. Stand away, please. You're blocking . . . what I do."

_FLEX! _

My heart kicks. My arms raise over my head by themselves, palms turned out, my mind-power expands throughout the gym. I sense Sue recoil as she feels it. The echo of my presence resounds through ninety-three minds in the building.

_CARRIE!_

_Yes me, Carrie White! Who you tricked, harassed and taunted every day. Always your victim, the butt of your jokes. Now I bare my soul to you, I grip you in its strength, and you will suffer as I have for my whole life . . . _

There are so many. The minds distract me. My power bounces and distorts around so much interference. I find the three shooters but it's like I see them tangled with everyone else in a fun house mirror, gnarled in a can like transparent worms. I try to grip their guns, jam them, heat them . . . something. I discover that with so many minds around, and sight unseen, my power can't make contact.

Meanwhile, the mist still slips through my power like water through my fingers. _No!_ I've lost my grip. My eyes are wide open and they burn with the smoke. I pant, my throat numb. The cut on my temple stings I can feel the blood stream out down my cheek like a river. My head pounds and screams with my effort, but the mist isn't moving. My power is too diffuse, too porous. I shut my eyes.

_**FLEX!**_

All the lights flash, some go out. My flesh goes cold down to the bones where my power revs and resonates. I don't shiver. I'm like an ice statue. My heart gallops. The gym shakes with a rumble. Like thunder. And like Sampson in the temple, I can bring it down on everybody now.

"Carrie!" cries Sue. "Don't!"

"Sto-!" Ms. D. touches me. I restrain myself from crushing her flat, but enough force gets away from me that I knock her off the stage.

_Don't touch me now! _I admonish her.

My power concentrates then it "tunes" itself to the vibration of the mist and smoke. I've never done anything like this before, and I see the nature of molecules and atoms as I do it. Now my arms begin to span out. The mist parts to either side opening a clear view.

_Flex!_

I steal its heat. My hands twist. The water condenses into droplets and carries the particles of smoke down with it. The air is clear for the moment, though fires smolder to replenish it.

The crowd continues out the door, none even pause in curiosity. One shooter isn't here. The other two turn toward me. I've squandered any surprise, but I'll settle for shock and awe.

_ Flex!_ I lift myself from the stage and lower myself gently to the floor. This gives them pause, then two guns are being trained on me. Sue shouts from the shadowed side of my vision but I already know. The one visible to me on the left, Rick Donohue, fires and misses. _Flex._ His next bullet jams. _Flex._ His clip goes hot and explodes. Metal tears into his hand and belly. He stumbles back.

I snap my head right, spot Keith Nelson taking aim. _Flex_, the rifle lifts and fires into the ceiling. A light explodes and sparks come down. _Flex!_ I grab and squeeze him, my power a cold serpent coiled around his body. He gasps, his eyes wide.

_(what's wrong, keith _y_ou can't breathe? excuse me a second. don't go away.)_

I pause, distracted by the bodies. Many are dead, some are wounded, a few are wisely playing possum. Rick and Keith's minds are like labels. They're not going to run or surrender if I let them go. No, they're bent on murder-suicide. They were planning to flee the consequences of their sins by shooting themselves quickly and painlessly. For them, numb death is the escape they desire, their final insult to life and the living.

_I'm Carrie White, God's arm and sword, and I forbid it! I'll give you a sample of Hell._

Back to the left, Rick tries to draw a pistol with his wounded hand. _Flex._ My left arm extends toward him. His handgun goes off and fires into his knee. He yelps. _Flex._ The pistol goes off again and shoots him in the foot. He falls, drops the pistol and screams. I'm so deaf, he sounds like a mosquito. Ending his life in one swat is too good for him. _Flex. _His gun levitates and aims. _Flex, flex._ Bang, bang. It takes out his other knee and foot. _Flex! _Oh, there goes his elbow, too.

Meanwhile, I loosen the coils on Keith.

_(trying to pass out? Naughty!)_

My fingers on my right hand curl and my wrist turns in response to the power feedback. I turn my attention to the wounded shooter left.

_(how many bullets does your gun hold, rick?) _

Bang . . . bang . . . bang, click, click . . .

_(_. . . _oh, that many.)_

I drop the handgun. He's not dead, he's just missing an ear, his nose and many of his teeth. He's screaming and shrieking like a girl. like I did in the shower. That gives me an idea. _Flex! _The lights above him break and spark, the glass shards swarm down into his face. He cries out and tears into his face with his good hand, but I make the glass dig deeper and deeper.

I sense movement. One of the possum players is trying to crawl away. My power grabs her by her long, beautiful brunette hair and stands her up on the tip of her toes. Her wet, black dress clings to her and I'm struck by her stature and slim, but shaped, figure. My hatred for her becomes inflamed with envy. "Tina Blake! How can I ever thank you for your vote?"


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

After a little practice and a lot of anger, I'm now very good at manipulating live bodies. It affects my arms very little now. But unlike Miss D. and Sue, Tina's mind isn't all open to me. Some parts are shadowed, making me curious.

I hang Tina by her hair. She screams, holding her scalp. Her pointed toes touch the floor like a ballerina. I'm tempted to spin her like one, and make—what's it called? A pirouette? Tina's like the beautiful doll I always wanted, but Momma wouldn't let me have, because it was the sin of idolatry.

I find Tina tempting all right.

Meanwhile, Rick has been writhing and screaming, as I've continued to dig glass shards into his face. I see Miss D. staring at me over the girl's shoulder, but she dare not say anything nor come closer. Sue's voice comes from my blind side, "Carrie, this is personal, there's still another sho . . ."

I glare in Sue's direction. I can't even see her, but she clams up. I guess my bad eye looks pretty evil now. _Un-flex. _I release Tina. Her knees almost give out. _Flex,_ I lock them. "Stay on your feet and look at me, Blake." _Unflex._ She does. "You were in on the trick. Don't look so innocent. The bucket of stinking blood I'm wearing now. That trick." I gesture to the front of my ruined dress, which was mostly soaked with water and transparent. I realize I've just called her attention to my breasts which are exposed. Self-consciousness agitates my power and anger. Tina peers at me with both fear and disturbing fascination. I'm envious of her deep brown eyes, gorgeous as the rest of her. My dream comes back to me, where I flailed her with a live wire until she burned like a witch. I consider doing that now.

_Like a witch. Like me._

"Blood?" she answers. "Y-you must be kidding . . ."

I make dramatic wave upward toward Rick. _Flex!_ I slam him into ceiling fifty feet above. This makes a shower of blood and guts. All the females, except me, scream. I reverse the gesture. _Un-flex._ Gravity smashes him back to the floor. Now he's bucket food, ready to be flushed down the toilet.

I cock my head and smirk at Tina, "Do I look like I'm kidding?"

I'm gratified to hear her whimper and see mortal terror in her eyes. "Carrie, how . . ?"

_Flex!_

I shut her lips to mute her. Then point my finger. "Mind your own business, and answer _my_ question." _Un-flex._

"Yes! I was in on it. But please, Carrie, I swear, Chris lied to me. She told me it was going to be syrup with red dye."

I laugh, and I force it a little for effect. "Syrup. That's a tasteful way of reminding me of your shower of tampons! Tasteful; like the glue in my hair, like calling me fat out loud time and again, like a dozen other things you did to me this year alone. I can read your mind, Tina, I know how much of it you did. And I know you were going to show that video of me hysterical in the shower to the whole prom tonight. So, why shouldn't I kill you like this?" I hold my hand up and snap my fingers.

_ Flex._ Behind me, I tighten the invisible coils around Keith. His forced exhale makes some kind of sound I can't hear. I know this because Tina looks at him with eyes big as hula hoops. _Flex._ I crush him. His skull, shoulders, arms, ribs, belly, hips and legs all collapse under my twisting force. I can't hear the sound it makes, but I do hear the others scream and wail. Blood and guts squirt in every direction. Some of it lands on the back of my neck. To my surprise, if feels pleasantly hot. I smile.

Tina's hands are shaking over her mouth and her complexion isn't looking too pretty anymore. Then, acting from the shadowed part of her mind, she does something I don't expect.

She breaks down sobbing and begs for mercy, "Please, please, Carrie, I didn't know . . . how much I was hurting . . . you."

I try to kill her right there, twist her limbs and head off like a doll I'm tired of playing with. But I _mis-flex_, or something. I can't do it up close looking into her beautiful frightened eyes. As I'm about to flex her eyelids shut some psychic curtain falls, and I see into one of those shadows that she's telling me the truth. And she is sorry. I can even see her excuse: my feelings weren't real to her. Only people at her social level or above had real feelings. At my low level, my pain was like a cartoon character's. Her best friend Chris was hardline about this and kept Tina from ever changing her attitude. Tina won't be like that anymore, her mind told me I could be certain.

She did with me and my pain what I just did with the shooters. Except they earned it.

I don't know what's wrong with me. Some arm and sword of the Lord I am. I struggle to regain my sarcastic edge and gird my reluctant power. I want to jeer at Tina's tears while I kill her. But something else stops me. She is very beautiful. Killing her would be like killing a hummingbird.

I stall. "Matt's dead?" That was Tina's deceased boyfriend, one of the bodies.

She breaks down sobbing even more.

"Tommy's dead, too," I point out. "We both lost somebody."

I look into her sparkling wet eyes and that perfect figure, then the next mind-revelation shakes me. I get a vision too clear to be fantasy.

"You mean you and Chris . . ." I don't have a word for it that isn't biblical, and those are all vague. "Lay with each other like . . ." I stop myself afraid somebody would laugh. Probably me because I sound so stupid and feel so mortified by my lustful interest.

She nods.

For my whole life, I wasn't allowed to think or look at unmentionable things. Parts of me buried like ancient ruins and forgotten are re-emerging from the ground. A vision of my next door neighbor, Stella Horan, in her swimsuit . . . her dirtypillows—breasts—bare, enviable and fascinating to me.

My breath catches. I realize I'm as attracted to Tina as I was to Tommy!

My fantasy of being the sword of the Lord crashes and burns; my chastity is ruined. I'm about to bring down the gym on top of myself for my own lust, when I realize there's nothing in the Bible against it. Boys with boys, yes, a terrible mortal sin; but girls with girls? Nothing.

I say to her, "You're lucky. If this happened the way Chris planned it, you would be so painfully dead now. But these guys have shown me what real evil is, and you hurt me a lot, but you're not evil, and I forgive you."

It makes me sound so good and merciful, but I feel like a hypocrite. Yet, that's as much of the truth as can bring myself to tell her. I didn't have the vocabulary, or the guts to say more.

Sue calls trying to get my attention. "Carrie! Carrie! Look!" She points at the window where alternating blue and red rolling flashes shimmered. I couldn't hear the sirens but the first emergency vehicles were arriving.

_THE CAR BOMB!_

How long have those been flashing? Eric could set it off at any time. I try to pinpoint him but with so many minds around, I can't do it quickly enough to be safe. He's one mind among many to sort through. If I go out the front, there would be too many minds to work through.

_Flex._ I push the side doors open, find them chained. _Flex._ I knock them off their hinges. I'm in too much of a hurry to run on the wet, littered floor. _Flex! Flex!_ I slingshot myself out then catch myself. _Flex!_ I lift myself high to get an overhead look, unobstructed by all the other minds. _Flex!_ I glide around the corner of the gym to locate the bomb and the last shooter; Eric, the one with the trigger to set it off.

* * *

_**A/N-9/28/14:**_ _No, this is not going to turn into a slash fanfic. I just thought that after 17 years of extreme sexual repression, and being a late bloomer, Carrie never had the chance to actually examine her sexuality. Maybe it had a surprise._

_Also, even though Carrie is capable of sadistic cruelty, she does have a quality of mercy to her, too._


End file.
